


Pretty Please with a Draco on Top (Or at the Bottom)

by slashedsilver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Birthday Cake, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashedsilver/pseuds/slashedsilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has had his share of bad ideas when it comes to his overly gorgeous Auror partner, but this one takes the cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Please with a Draco on Top (Or at the Bottom)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracogotgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/gifts).



> An early birthday fic for dracogotgame :) Dearest DGG, this is a week early because I won't be around for your very important day. I'm so glad to have met you and the rest of the Gryffs on WBTH -- you're really the best ♥ Hope you have an absolutely lovely birthday full of cake IRL and H/D goodness online :D (And yes, this is what I do instead of writing my fest fics.)

Harry watched somewhat resignedly as Draco scooped another forkful of cake and slipped it into his mouth. Draco's eyes fluttered shut and he gave another huge, hearty groan, which Harry's mind was all too willing to misinterpret as a throaty moan of desire. It was probably the tenth time Draco had done this, but apparently it was the only way to give Dame Wilkinson's Premium Line of cakes ("Direct from France!") the appreciation it deserved. Down to the very last morsel.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Draco enthusiastically and thoroughly fellated the fork again.

It was a bad idea. A really bad idea to offer to treat Draco to some cake for his birthday, knowing he had a sweet tooth and an unhealthy predilection for cakes, and Dame Wilkinson's cakes in particular. Harry had known this (and in no way because he'd taken to watching Draco again, not in the least), which was why he had thought he would surprise Draco with a little detour after they'd apprehended their last suspect, on the happy occasion of Draco's birthday. The look of pleased surprise on Draco's face when Harry Apparated them to Dame Wilkinson's, and the corresponding warmth flooding through Harry at Draco's delighted smile, had almost been enough to assure Harry that he'd made the right decision.

But he should have known better. Even if they'd been getting along supremely well as Auror partners, working astonishingly well together in a way Harry had always assumed Ron and himself would have, if Ron had joined the Aurors. Even if Harry had begun to appreciate the clever wit and unexpectedly warm smiles of his partner, to the point that he dreaded the weekends when they were apart. And _especially_ when other parts of Harry's anatomy were beginning to show interest in Draco as well, and make their interest very well known to Harry indeed.

Especially when Draco did things like this—bending over to grab fallen papers so that the line of his slacks showed just how shapely an arse he possessed, reaching up to snag books from the highest shelf so that his shirt became untucked, showing the barest line of pale, milky skin, and once, so that Harry had to shut his eyes in defeat: leaning over the expanse of a large, mahogany table in his eagerness to grab and question a suspect. Draco's hips had lined up perfectly in front of Harry's groin, that if he'd just shifted a couple of inches in front... Draco had been extremely annoyed when Harry had needed a few minutes before he could step in to back his partner up.

"This was a seriously bad idea," Harry muttered, wondering how he got himself into situations like these. He watched in dismay as Draco leaned close to the plate, apparently attempting to inhale his cake, and somehow managing to get cream on the tip of his nose.

Harry stared, flabbergasted, at the thick cream marring Draco's features. It was out of place on Draco's aristocratic nose, and entirely at odds with his normally immaculate and well put together image. He had never come to work with robes anything less than crisply pressed, hair slicked back neatly, and he most decidedly _never_ got anything on his face. And the worst thing was, it called to mind—all too easily—another sort of creamy substance altogether, and what it might look like on Draco's face. Harry imagined Draco's haughty expression, the one he wore when he was interrogating suspects or pulling the "son of Lucius Malfoy, famed Death Eater" card, melting into startled surprise when as it was splattered with cream. Harry swallowed.

Draco seemed entirely unaware of the dollop of whipped cream he was now wearing. He sank his fork into another section of cake.

"Do you know you're wearing your cake on your face?" Harry choked out, gripping the table hard.

"Am I, now?" Draco said, apparently unconcerned.

Then he smirked, and the— _unintentionally, entirely unintentionally,_ Harry told himself—sultry expression hit right at Harry's gut. "It's a good thing I'm not wearing _only_ cake then, isn't it? Can you imagine what that might look like? That would be embarrassing."

Immediately, Harry's brain provided helpful images of a Draco, entirely naked and covered with cream in strategic places, stretched out on satin sheets, pale body flushed red with embarrassment as Harry prowled nearer and nearer...

With a strangled cry, and probably not entirely conscious he was moving, Harry stood up, leaned over the table for two, and swept his tongue over Draco's nose, taking that offending bit of cream off his skin.

 _Draco is right,_ Harry thought inanely. _The cake does taste pretty good._

"Oh good," Draco commented. "I was beginning to think you'd never make your move."

Before Harry could fully comprehend what Draco had said, he'd enthusiastically closed the distance and sucked Harry's lips into a kiss. Harry's mind exploded. The cake in front of him probably did too, after he accidentally put his hand into it.

"Well, would you look at that," Draco said, when they'd pulled back, lips swollen red in a way that made Harry want to nibble on them again.

"What?" Harry replied, distracted by thoughts of nibbling on other places of Draco. Maybe Draco would agree to getting naked and letting Harry smear his favourite cakes all over him, while he shivers and gasps and tries not to twitch—or maybe Harry could decorate himself with the confectionary on some very strategic spots, and convincing Draco that it would taste better now that it was on Harry. Maybe Draco would agree, and sink slowly to his knees, cheeks pink with embarrassment, as he opened his mouth to take Harry in...

Draco opened his mouth now, and Harry shivered in anticipation.

"Your hand," Draco said instead, looking in Harry's direction in a manner that could only be described as hungry.

Harry blinked down at his right hand, and was aghast to find that it was now covered in the remains of Draco's beloved cake. "Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry about your cake—"

"Don't be. It's a good thing I _really_ like cake."

When Draco began to demonstrate exactly how much he liked it, Harry could only wholeheartedly agree.


End file.
